


The Man in love

by alicy_sunberg33



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Compliant, I promise, It’s all very soft!!!, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Multi, Nothing too explicit, Philosophy, Pre-WMTSB I, Slight mention of Belial/Lucilius, Strangulation, Unrequited Love, belial POV, character exploration, just a bit, no beta we die like men, until it’s not slight anymore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 19:50:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20476577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alicy_sunberg33/pseuds/alicy_sunberg33
Summary: One or two hundred years ago or maybe much less, Belial met with yet another human companion to relieve the perpetual tension he was under during the last millenium or so. Usually he feigned to care for them and listened to them until he moved on and left them heart-broken or simply ended their miserable lives. Mortal lives were simply so fragile... but this one... strangely enough, this one touched him more than he thought it would.





	The Man in love

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. Thanks for dropping in. Just a heads up this is a beta-less work written by a non native English-speaker. You have been warned (also if you’d be so kind as to point out mistakes I’ve made, it’d be really appreciated)
> 
> Meanwhile I hope you enjoy this piece and have a great day.

It was long before the days of the Singularity. Several dozens of years ago. Perhaps more. It made no difference really. The only thing that mattered was that she was dead now. And he was not.

At that time, he was observing the crowds and enjoying a party in a inn at the center of a commercial hub, a lot of people from all around the skydom were here, dancing, singing playing the music, each nations represented by different players and songs. 

She looked young to him, but she probably wasn’t by human standards. Perhaps in her twenties or thirties. It made no difference to him. 

She was a barmaid that had stopped serving to dance with some fellows that probably came from her home island, as they were dancing the same way, slamming their heels on the wooden floor, clapping their hands, twirling their wrists and their skirts, guitars playing catchy rhythm and passionate singing rising up to the ceiling. Up in the balconies, people were leaning down to see them move on the stage in the middle of the hall, smiling faces everywhere and drinks were flowing merrily. This atmosphere was fun and just dynamic enough to not make it immediately boring. And most of all in this kind of environment, debauchery was never too far and it was sometimes welcomed. He could probably find a good meal in this crowd.

He had to give the skydwellers some credit at least: they knew how to party.

He smiled back to some people who were staring at him, flirted with a lot of them, making his intentions clear. Sometimes his preys would feel too shy in front of his bold words and run away, other times he would bid farewell to the eager ones. Mortals might be easy meat, but that did not mean he liked them cheap either. 

The barmaid seemed good enough. She attracted attention while she was on the dance floor with her compatriots but as soon as she descended from the stage, she became a simple barmaid in the matter of seconds, her aura changing completely. Were he a lesser man he would probably have forgotten about her with the help of alcohol and music. 

Cautious but also knew how to have fun... He smirked. Maybe he’d take his time, for once.

_Okay, then._

At some point in the night she was cleaning a table next to where he was. He had a young male Erune sleeping under one arm and a Draph girl under the other.

“Nice catch,” she snarked at him, a slight smirk under amiable eyes. 

He chuckled and bowed his head at her compliment.

Long black curly hair tied in a gloriously thick pony-tail, darker skin, green eyes and a small smile on her pointy face. Dark freckles were covering her chicks, nose and neck, if he tilted his head he could see the rest of it on her cleavage and shoulders. So he did. 

Ah and there they were. He liked that _a lot._

She noticed his gaze and didn’t seem bothered by it. When she stood back up, she leaned her hand on the table she just cleaned and stared right back at him. Smile still on. She even looked him up and down, not a shy bone in her. _Oh, confidence and boldness! How cute._

“Can I get you and your friends anything, good sir?” she asked casually.

“My companions and I are good for tonight,” he smiled, petting the sleeping Erune’s hair absentmindedly. “But I might take you up on that tomorrow night, perhaps.”

Smile still on, she narrowed her eyes slightly at him, her foreign accent giving her voice a delightful mischievous tone:

“I wonder now if we’re talking about the same thing, but suits yourself! See you tomorrow then.”

“See you tomorrow,” he purred.

She rolled her eyes and went back to finish her night. But she was still smiling.

Next night she came as a customer and not as a waitress. Her thick black mane was cascading around her shoulders and she was wearing a simple red shirt and black skirt. The shirt were revealing one shoulder, in a neglected kind of way, but her freckles there were now visible and paired with the ones on her face. She sat with him, uninvited, two drinks in hand, gave him one, asked him about last night “catches”, as she called it, and he answered they were fun but he liked to change his game sometimes. 

“Shame. I would’ve liked a piece of that,” she admitted bluntly, and that made him laugh. “The name’s Soledad, by the way.”

“Belial. A pleasure. Does your name have a meaning? It sounds like it does.”

She smiled.

“Solitude.”

“How melancholic. Is your name telling about how you live your life?”

“Most of the time yes,” she shrugged. She looked up after taking a large gulp from her drink and smiled a small thing that was neither shy nor simple. “Sometimes, though, I can make do with something else.”

He smiled. Her flirting was adorable. They talked a lot. She asked some questions about him, but when he deflected the subject or answered vaguely, she stopped asking them altogether, giving him privacy. How sweet. They exchanged pleasantries and he thought she wouldn’t be able to wait any longer, but surprisingly she was still here after several hours of talking. She would get closer to him at some point, he would run a finger along her neckline, counting her freckles. She let him, while she was humming the song the music players were interpreting. 

When she yawned, she stood up and invited him to follow her with a nod of her chin and a smile. She led him to a stair up in the inn, then to where she was living. 

They did their first night right up against the door and she laughed every single minute of it. She was really adorable. 

Next night they actually managed to get to her bed, and she was still giggling at how stupid and eager she looked, she kept on apologizing on how obvious she was. He quickly shut her up, and changed the sound she made to a song much more appropriate to the moment.

The following night they went straight to her room and did not stay at the hall. 

She liked to take the lead and liked to please him in a way that was slightly different from what he was used to. The Charm he inherently created was enough to make everyone dizzy with just his gaze and made them potty between his hands. Soledad was different because she was simply generous by nature. He gathered she treated all her lovers this way. He wasn’t that offended by the thought. He might be the primal beast of cunning but he could appreciate a genuine mortal from time to time. They were rare.

He noticed she wasn’t really reactive to his Charms. When he used them with a clear purpose she could not and did not resist but when it was passive, she was mostly immune to it. Or... not exactly immune because the girl was charmed, no doubt about that, but only because she wanted to be. It happened every once in a while, skydwellers having a decent enough mental strength to resist him. He absolutely _loved that_. It was unnerving and exhilarating. It felt like a challenge.

She was adorable, both laughing and joking around. She was so chatty and he loved to listen to the effect he had on her when she interrupted her talking flow to moan or whine. 

One night, he was closing his eyes after they had their fun. He never slept like humans did every night, they were so fragile that they needed their rest as soon as the sun went down. Ants...

He heard the floor creak under her bare feet as she rose from the bed. He looked up and saw her sliding a door. The room behind it was bigger than her own bedroom. It was full of canvas, trestles, jars full of colorful pigments, and a large window through which the moonlight was shining through. 

So she was an artist... 

He followed her in as she sat in front of a large canvas on a stool, crossing her legs around its feet and tying her hair up with a long brush used as a hairpin. She stared for a long time at the canvas before choosing her colors, preparing them on her pallet, and starting to paint.

“Did I wake you up? Sorry...,” she apologized without looking away from what she was doing.

“No harm done, love, I wasn’t asleep yet. I didn’t know you painted...”

“I didn’t tell you!” 

As he leaned down to kiss her neck, he took a look at her work.

Silhouettes of red and yellow and oranges, barely distincts, only shaped by colors, dancing in the middle of a crowd of people. Belial could hear the music again. 

He rose to see other paintings, sketches of people, dancers, singers. Sometimes a building would rise out of the drawings of people...

But at the corner of another canvas, he saw something he thought he’d never see ever painted... a desolated land. Scorched dust and skies... for one single moment... 

He saw Pandemonium.

“I saw this in a dream, I think,” she said, glancing at what he was looking at.

“Why did you paint this?”

So far it’s been the only question he asked that he was actually interested in the answer. She stared long and hard at the canvas.

“Why...? I guess paint things when I think their important. This scenery... I felt it was important.”

He looked back at her, her green eyes staring far away beyond the painting, beyond the room, beyond the building, beyond the very island.

Skydwellers... such fragile things, such a massive pain in every Astral and primal beasts’ ass even though they were mere ants... and then suddenly there were those who listened and knew beyond their own knowledge. Those that looked around them and saw carnage. Those that looked around them and saw beauty. Soledad was perceptive. 

He had a bitter chuckle when he gave her painting another look. He could not believe he was having such thoughts.

“You’ve seen something like this place before,” she said after a while. It was not a question more an affirmation. Clever girl. He smiled at her, made his Charm ooze out of him to distract her and came back to her side. The way he walked up to her made her both blush and smile. She was looking at him without a shade of shame. One thing he liked about her was that she was honest with what she felt. He enjoyed when people were ashamed of their affections for him, the conflict in them was delightful to see. But hers was a free existence. There was no shame in her to begin with. What she liked she liked with no restrains, no shackles. It was refreshing.

“I don’t know,” he answered, lifting her chin up and caressing her face. “I’ve been to many places.”

“That’d be a sad place to land at,” she said softly, her eyes closed, appreciating his ministrations. 

“I guess it would,” he chuckled softly. He proceeded to kiss her many times and she let him, but she eventually touched his hand to push him back gently. She gave a small disappointed sigh, and he chuckled at her reaction.

“I need to finish this, I can join you as soon as I’m done, if you still feel like it,” she added with a mischievous smile. 

“Oh don’t you worry about that. Be careful what you wish for, you minx,” he purred against her ear before leaving with a last look in her direction. He had felt the heat in her neck, she wouldn’t be long now.

On another night she had stood up from her stool and saw him lazing around in her bed and sat in a chair to look at him.

“You’re staring,” he smiled after a while, eyes still closed.

“Of course, I am,” she laughed. “You’re beautiful. I could spend nights just staring at you.”

“Just staring?” he joked.

“Just staring.”

He actually opened his eyes to see her sitting legs crossed on her chair, chin resting in her hand, looking at every part of him. She was not blushing nor was her pupils dilated. She had an awed smile on her face. This was an artist appreciating the work of another.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he said and he wanted to be truthful here. She was a beauty as well. A mortal one but still. Flowers lived shortly. But they were beautiful while they lasted.

Her smile then was wry. 

“It’s not the same. I might be your type, but you, good sir... you’re almost... objectively beautiful.”

Ah. So she could feel that he was made to be like this. Cilius always had excellent taste after all. 

“First of all, my dear, I don’t have a “type”, such limits are not the kind of thing I need. Second... Should I feel offended or flattered here, dear Soledad?”

“Flattered, I’d hope! You fascinate me, Belial.”

“Do I, now?” he smirked, trying to get her back into her joking mood.

She nodded and continued to stare at him, resting her head on her arms. 

“May I be allowed to do the same?” he asked.

“Aren’t you tired of that? You already stared at me plenty,” she giggled. The comment sounded presumptuous at first but under that was a good load of self-depreciation. _Such a shame, dear girl!_

But a legitimate question nonetheless. What was there left to stare at that he didn’t already appreciated before? There were nothing more to see. Mortals were all different, and they still managed to stay the same regardless. 

He got up and went to touch her face, study the shape of it, thumb passing on cheek, her freckles, her lips, then slowly, his hand went to her throat... 

He only needed to twist it, just a bit, and her neck would snap, and gone would be her life. Such were the mortals. He was the kind of breath that could snuff out the candle that was their soul, just like that. 

She closed her eyes. He smiled wryly. It felt like a provocation.

“You look like you trust me way too much, dear girl.”

He squeezed her throat. And she let him. Her breath hitched slightly. It was serious. Too serious for it to be pleasurable. He could kill her right there. He felt like she knew that. And yet she did nothing to stop him. 

Her eyes opened and stared at the distance. Far away from him, far away from here. 

“It’s not about trust,” she whispered. “It’s simply what I feel. If I choose to trust you, it will be my own choice. You might be a cruel or a good man, and it would have no relevance on whether I trust you or not. It’s not about trust. It’s about choice.”

Strangely enough, the talk became philosophical and he chuckled at that. He released the pressure on her throat but kept his hand there, feeling her heart beat catch and then slowing down. 

“Are you not afraid to die, darling girl?”

“I am.”

“Did you not think that I could kill you here and there?”

“I did.”

He laughed, kissing her forehead, and he felt her smile under him.

“You confuse me by the minute, love.”

He took her hand and walked her to the bed, sitting her on his lap, her legs straddling his hips, he started to caress her back softly, soothing. She was still shivering from what just happened.

“Why didn’t you stop me, then?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I’d care if you did...”

“Are you that lonely that you’d wish for your own death, Soledad?”

“I don’t especially wish for my own death. I just wouldn’t mind if it was you who did it.”

“Why?”

She looked at him, her green eyes were empty, as if he wasn’t really there. Then her eyes looked into his, and she started to pet his hair, ruffling it, sliding her fingers into it... he was still waiting for her answer when she kissed him softly. Then she smiled. 

“Did you know, Belial, That you’re the first person I actually showed my workshop?”

“Am I? What an honor! How come you never did before?”

“I put my soul, my mind, my energy, everything into those paintings. No one saw me paint. Ever. I consider it as private as making love. Sometimes more. When I invite people in, they don’t go past the bedroom.”

“But you let me see.”

It was probably an effect of the Charm. But he wanted to see if there was... something beyond that.

“I felt an echo in you. I just... knew how you were feeling inside. Just a bit.”

“Oh? And what was it?”

She rested her forehead on his.

“You feel lonely,” she said so softly he could have not heard. But he did.

A sudden, bitter anger rose in him. How dare she thought her feelings allowed her to even guess what _he_ felt?! How dare she compared her ridiculous little loneliness to his, who lived this way for_ two millennia_?! She who could live in broad day light as she saw fit and die her death as the ant she was, a life comparable to the bat of an eye for him, while he had to hide from the most observant and omnipotent _fuckers_ in existence! How could she even think that they had a connection when there was nothing in common in their very physicality, in their very core! They were nothing alike. 

Outside, he chuckled lightly:

“Lonely, huh? How could I be? I can enjoy all the company that I want whenever I want. This is how I live, this is who I am. You seem to enjoy that well enough, no?”

His Charm activated and she shivered at the contrast of how hot his hands suddenly were on her skin. 

“Feeling alone, and being alone,” she breathed, all flustered. He was impressed she managed to keep coherent thoughts. “Those are two different things. Why do you look so much for the company of others if not because you’re feeling alone?”

She then hugged him and burrowed her nose in his neck, and held on to dear life. The embrace surprised him for a second and he did not respond to it immediately.

“Everyone is the same,” her voice was muffled as she spoke against his skin. “We don’t want to be alone or to feel lonely so we surround ourselves of people to fight off the feeling. I thought you were the same. But...” she took his hand in hers. “It feels like you’re loosing the fight. Your loneliness is too big. I don’t know if I can do anything about it...”

Anger subsided. Again with that misplaced generosity of hers... She was starting to hit a bit closer to home than it was comfortable for him. How could a mortal be so perceptive was beyond him. Well it was one of the first time he actually gave one the time to be perceptive at all.

“Is that why you let me go this far with you? Little Soledad, there is nothing you can do about it. No one can do anything about it.”

She straightened up and looked at him for a long moment, then she breathed a laugh and shook her head. Her hands came to each side of his face.

“Belial.”

“Hm?”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

He sighed, and he felt pity for her. They always end up saying that. But this time he wanted to know...

“Why?”

“Because of the echo I felt.”

“An echo? Just because of that?”

“It’s important to me...”

She stopped for a moment then got up and looked at him in a way he did not expect her to do. Her head tilted on the side and eyes observed him simply. It was almost clinical. For one tiny, fleeting moment he saw someone else entirely. He saw...

“Pose for me, Belial.”

Her tone was almost commanding. _Let me use you for a bit._ He blinked and saw white hair, red robes, blue eyes and skin as pale as clouds. It was gone before he could reflect on that. Now it was long black hair swaying on the side, freckles on dark skin and green eyes catching the moonlight in their deep color. _They were nothing alike_, he told himself. _They were nothing alike._

“So you want to paint me then? I’m flattered.”

“It’s ok if you’re not. It’ll just be a drawing for now. I need to paint this. It’s important. I have to show you. Let me get my things.”

Such a strange one, this mortal who only drew important things. Yet in her sketches and her canvas, she only drew normal things, people dancing, islands in the sky, and old battlefields. What was so important in these things?

“What did you mean when you said you have to show me?” he asked when she came back while carrying a board with papers strapped to it and a stool.

“I have to show you what I see. How I see you. Make yourself comfortable, Belial. It might take a few sketches.”

“I am at your entire disposal,” he bowed and she laughed. 

Red from his hand still marked her throat. He kept staring at it and imagined how the bruise would form on it.

Hours later, she was still not tired, still drawing and his thoughts had drifted to a life when he was behind a robed, white-haired silhouette. Ready to serve and willing. 

“Ok. I think I’m done.” Her voice woke him up from his reverie.

“Oh! Show me, show me.”

She hid her sketches against her breasts, her smile mischievous.

“Nope. You’ll get to see it when it’s finished.”

She added while her smile became wry.

“You’ll have to come back to see it once it’s complete.”

This stopped him. So she knew he wasn’t staying... So perceptive... he wondered if he had to kill her. 

But he wanted to see the finished piece.

“How did you realize that?” he asked casually.

Only then did he notice how her eyes started to become red and teary. Oh no...

“Just then,” her voice wavering, still smiling. “The only moment you didn’t look at me while I was drawing you. I think you’re in love with someone else. And that’s why you can’t stay, right?”

He stared as she scrubbed her eyes to push the tears back in and failed doing so. She looked up at him and gave an embarrassed laugh.

“I know, I got my hopes up for nothing. I’m sorry, I must be such a bother...”

He sighed and got up. Took her face between his large hands and stared at her tears. She tried to look away.

“Soledad. Look at me.”

“I’m sorry, Belial,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I wish I could. I wish I could give you something that’d make you stay but... I don’t know that you’ll take it even if I did.”

He kept on shushing her and tried to sooth her with whispers against her hair. He smiled when she finally looked up. Kissed her eyes and her forehead. 

“You’re right. As usual.”

Her laugh was wet from her tears. He pushed them away with his thumb. 

“There was nothing you could do from the beginning, Soledad dear. But I thank you for caring, darling girl. No one has been this kind to me in years. You brought me warmth and gave me your love in a way few ever did. But you’re right. This is not what I want. I hope you understand.”

She nodded but her tears kept on flowing.

“Come,” he told her when he took her hand. “It’s cold here.”

He made love to her one last time and watched as she fell asleep, saying to him “goodbye”, “take care” and “thank you”, kissing him before slumber took her. She knew he wasn’t going to be here next morning. 

The sun wasn’t up yet when he left her room. He was tempted to look at the sketches she hid in a corner, but strangely enough, respected her wish. The girl was already heart-broken. He’d give her at least the privacy she wanted. 

Look at him, actually caring for this poor ridiculous little thing... Absurd.

Maybe he’d come back. Who knows...

He left the inn behind him and as soon as he flew out of the island, there was nothing but the Grand Finale in his mind. It’d be about time to start! He was so excited!!

Dozens of years later, a few months before the brand new Primarch was born and his meeting with the Singularity.

There was a big inn in the middle of a big island. 

The place was familiar, and the atmosphere too. He spent a few days there and enjoyed his stay greatly, laying low by releasing his perpetual tension. 

At some point he decided to flirt with the new waiter, a magnificent Draph man with grey hair and a confident scruff along his jaw, and as she descended from his room to the bar, the man stared at him and even before the Charm actually kicked in, he said a resounding:

“Holy shit.”

That made him pause but he laughed and leaned on the counter.

“I get that a lot...”

“What?... Oh I mean, yeah I understand that,” he straight up blushed in front of his smirk, “but I’m not talking about that...”

He gave him a good long look. 

“You’re the same guy... Like... it’s uncanny,” he said in awe.

“I know I can be uncanny but I need context here. I don’t believe we’ve met before. Care to explain?”

“Oh, yeah. There aren’t too many people right now, I guess I can show you. Hey, Lerna, do you mind filling in for me for a minute? I won’t be long.”

_So you think_, Belial chuckled inside, staring shamelessly at his next meal. Lerna eye rolled at him, and gave him a shooing motion. 

The man, “Kieran, actually”, took him to one of the balconies. He’d not been there before and so he discovered here a gallery. Paintings covering everything, wall to wall all of them showing different things, mostly suggesting people, places, islands with just the shape of their colors. 

He stopped in front of one of people dancing, in reds and oranges and yellows, like a fire formed by their raised arms. A sign under it called it “The Stage”. One desolated landscape with red skies straight up paused him for a good thirty seconds... A sign called it “Red Dust”

“_That’d be a sad place to land at._”

“_I paint things when I think they’re important_,” he heard in his head, the memory of a distant voice. 

Then he saw a self-portrait of the painter. He knew it was a self-portrait without looking at the sign. A dark skinned woman, thick black hair thrown to the side, green eyes and thick eyebrows frowning slightly over them, a thin smile, freckles everywhere, way more than he remembered himself. “Soledad”.

Solitude. 

He smiled, finally recalling her. This little thing that tried to help him. Her earnestness was one of the thing he had liked about her. It had been both annoying and endearing.

At the end of the gallery was probably the biggest piece so far. A portrait as well. There was a man sitting lazily on a bed, sheets barely covering him, moonlight only shone on him, and head turned towards it, looking thoughtful. 

That man was him.

For Belial, it was a first. He was rightfully stunned. Seeing a finished piece of himself. A painting of himself. He looked remarkably unguarded on it. He remembered looking out the window for a mere second while he had posed for her and it’s precisely this one she took... during all the time he posed for her that night she chose to do this one... Clever girl.

“_I have to show you what I see_,” she had said.

Under the painting was a sign showing the name of the piece:

“The Man In Love”

So damn perceptive. _You got me there, Sol_, he chuckled inside. This feeling was fonder than he imagined it could ever be. He wanted to laugh. Instead he opened big eyes and gasped:

“Holy shit indeed, my good sir! That looks just like me!”

“I know right?! It’s crazy! All of those paintings are crazy old, so you can understand my surprise when I saw you.”

“You know, I was told I looked a lot like my grandfather but I never actually knew him. But that might be him right there!! Do you know who the painter is? Can I meet them?”

“Oh she died a long time ago. She used to be waitress here apparently and took over the inn because the owner had no heir. Used this part of the inn to expose her work and sell it, but this is the one piece she never wanted to be sold, or so goes the legend. It was pretty popular and people did try to get her to sell it to them. But she never let it go. So we never did.”

Belial listened to him while looking at her work. 

He talked the waiter into meeting him later and he would do him right against the wall of a random room, but for now he just looked at the paintings. Most of them were finished, some of them were just preparatory sketches. 

He looked back at her self-portrait. One of the smaller pieces. A small confident smile, a self-depreciating frown, but the overall look gave her a mischievous face. 

_So you’re not lonely?_ it seemed to say. _After seeing your face like that? You still don’t believe me?_

_Oh now you’re just being smug, you minx!_

She was right, of course. She had been right from the beginning. He was lonely. The fact that the Grande Finale was finally set in motion made him so shamelessly giddy, nearing horny... just from the prospect of possibly seeing Cilius again. He missed him, he missed him so much!

“Hey Kieran, did this lady had any descendants?”

“Soledad? No, I don’t think so. She had a wife, if I remember correctly but they didn’t have children. Not that I know of at least.”

So she didn’t end up alone in the end. _Good for you, love._

“I see. Thank you for showing me this, Kieran. It was a great surprise.”

He was sincere. 

He remembered she told him no one ever saw her paint but him. All of those paintings, or at least those he saw in her workshop were now here, exposed in broad day light. He realized there was only one reason she let that happen.

“_You'll have to come back to see it once it’s complete_.” 

You never let go of it because you wanted to show me, right?

He was glad he saw that before launching the plan. At least this would be a good memory from the old world he’d keep in the new one Cilius was going to build! 

It’s been fun. Goodbye, Soledad.

He turned his back to the paintings and the love and passion exuding from them. His grin was hungry and excited.

Hello, Grand Finale!


End file.
